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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115188">What we build</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmellyKelo/pseuds/SmellyKelo'>SmellyKelo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tennis RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>After the ATP World Tour Finals 2018, Domi and Sascha relationship mentioned, Elements of alternate universe but not quite, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Kiki is only mentioned (she does not appear physically), M/M, Tenerife, interior decoration, off-season training</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:15:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmellyKelo/pseuds/SmellyKelo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Domi is in Tenerife in late 2018, after the end of the ATP World Tour Finals, to train. Since the middle of the year he has been suffering for the break of friendship/relationship with Sascha, wondering what might have been had he acted differently. Disliking the house in which he is supposed to stay during this period, he engages an interior decorator for some redecorations. In the process he becomes friends with the man, and through discussions about life in general and their lives in particular, they both realise who each of them loves, and reconcile themselves with their feelings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dominic Thiem &amp; original male character, Dominic Thiem/Alexander Zverev, Kristina Mladenovic/Dominic Thiem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story arises from reflections on my own experiences, being forced by my own mind to relive the past during quarantine. Not all experiences were nice, but I believe everything is of value and we can learn from everything. Well, enough philosophising.</p>
<p>Domi really trained in Tenerife in late 2018, as the year before that. Well, he posted enough photos on Instagram for the whole world to know :) Of course there is no evidence that he redecorated the house where he stayed, but a writer is entitled to their imaginations, artistic license, whatever.</p>
<p>The title of the fic is taken from the song 'Lo que construimos' by Mexican musician Natalia Lafourcade, from her album 'Hasta la raíz' (2015). Although the song says 'What we built', in the past, I have used the present tense in the name of the fic.</p>
<p>The usual disclaimer: The tennis players and their coaches and support staff mentioned are real people. The story is my imagination.</p>
<p>Finally, I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Domi glances furtively at the man sitting across the table from him, drinking coffee, while Domi has the said man’s tab in his hand and is going through some drawings depicting interior decoration of rooms. Or, he is supposed to be seeing the pictures and selecting one or more, but is covertly checking out the interior designer and architect. Adrián González must be in his mid-thirties if not older, but had Domi not known that he has been in this business for around ten years he would have considered Adrián to be four or five years older than himself. To add to all that, he is very good looking.</p>
<p>Of course Domi had never dreamt that within three days of his arrival in Tenerife he would be discussing interior designing with a professional. When he had first seen the pictures of the house that was to be his home for a few weeks the winter, there was absolutely no reason to think of rearranging or changing the interior of the building. He was to stay there for less than two months, he would be there to train, not to stay forever. In fact, when he first saw the building from outside, he liked it. The structure, the stairs, the railings on the sides, the view from the top of the steps – he had liked it all. ‘Picturesque’ – that was the word that had come to his mind. But he could not say the same for the inside - and that is an understatement. The inside of the house seemed ‘business-like’, as if it were a hotel room and not somebody’s home, even if the owner had constructed that place to rent it out.</p>
<p>He should not have been bothered about it, because he had been staying in hotel rooms all over the world for years; that was part of life on the tour. But for some reason he was disappointed. Maybe because he was dissatisfied with his life for the last few months. He knows that it is like a whiny entitled spoiled child to think like that; his life is better than most people in the world. And anyway, whatever dissatisfaction he experiences at present, it arises from his own actions, because it was he who had refused Sascha, and not the other way round.</p>
<p><i>Sascha!</i> Domi cannot remember a time when he had not known Sascha. They were friends from childhood. They grew up playing together, living together, reading together, quarrelling-fighting-discussing-loving together. He had always considered Sascha a younger brother, and Sascha had looked up to him as his elder, but over the years – unknown to them both – that brotherhood transformed into something else until none of them could lie to themselves or to each other. They both realised that they loved each other more than just as brothers. They fought against that, obviously – none of them wanted to jeopardise their friendship, but they were very young - and human.</p>
<p>That in itself should not have been any problem, but they were public figures, and sportspersons at that. As they both climbed up the rankings, their parents, coaches, agents and everyone else started schooling them about ‘appropriate’ behaviour. Domi himself knew in his own mind that they could not continue the way they were doing, that sooner or later circumstances would force them apart. <i>Better sooner than later</i>, Domi had decided, but could not carry out his own decision. And Sascha simply never thought about it. <i>What is it to anyone else?</i> was Sascha’s question, and Domi could never answer that. In fact, under Sascha’s influence he had started to believe that it was nobody’s business but their own. Then, in the middle of the year, just after he had returned home being runner-up at the French Open, there was a scandal in his country. It involved other people, from a different profession, but that woke Domi up from the world of his dreams. He told Sascha, tried to make him see the difficult position in which they could find themselves if something like that ever happened to them, but Sascha stuck to his position. Then, for the first time in his life, Domi had to be harsh to Sascha. <i>It will kill me, Domi. Don’t leave like this, please</i>. Sascha had pleaded, but Domi had to be strong, although it was like killing a part of himself. <i>You will never be able to live without me</i>. Those were Sascha’s final words before they had parted. That was some five months ago.</p>
<p>And now Domi is split between his feelings for Sascha and his attraction to Kiki. He had known her for a long time too – the tennis tour is a small world. He has always liked her; she is open and honest about everything, quite outspoken, and seems to have more self-confidence than Domi and Sascha combined. They have been dating for quite some time now. Unfortunately, Sascha believes that that is the reason why Domi refused him, and Domi has failed to convince him otherwise. In fact, Sascha told him as much at the World Tour Finals. Domi knew that he would not be able to make him see reason, so he said nothing against his accusations, and after Sascha had won it, he simply sent a congratulatory message. Sascha had not replied to it, and they have not spoken since.</p>
<p>“Decide anything?” Adrián asks in his pleasant accent, starting Domi out of his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Um - actually, this is not my house. So I cannot do anything I wish,” Domi replies slowly. “I would just like things to be rearranged so that this place resembles a home and not a hotel for business, you see. Everything is in your hands; I am not an expert. You do as you wish, provided that nothing fundamental gets altered. Whatever you do, I will be happy with it.” He returns the tab to its owner, noticing a tattoo, probably in Arabic, on the inside of his right arm, a little above the wrist.</p>
<p>“Very well,” replies Adrián. “I start tomorrow.” He stands up. “Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Thiem.”</p>
<p>Domi cannot stop a small laugh. “That sounds so formal! Please call me Dominic. Or Domi, if you wish.”</p>
<p>“Ah. Dominic, then. Hasta mañana.”</p>
<p>He pronounces the name like he would in Spanish. Domi likes the sound of it. Adrián seems to be a nice guy overall. Experienced too, if Domi has realised correctly from the sketches that he saw. He would do a nice job with the house, Domi is certain. He could make Domi if not happy, then at least less disappointed.</p>
<p>Yes, he is disappointed, though he had not realised it at first. In fact, that first day, Domi had not complained although deep in his mind he had not liked the place. However, he was not able to sleep that night, in spite of being tired from the flight and all the work associated with moving to a new place. In the morning he felt tired and listless, but went to practice anyway and worked diligently, did whatever he was told. The second night was worse. Again, he could not sleep, and whenever he closed his eyes it felt as if he were in a cell, not even a hotel room. Towards the morning he fell into a light slumber, and had a nightmare in which the walls of the room were falling on him. He spent the next hour walking in the garden, and after breakfast called the owner of the house, asking his permission for some small decorations in the inside of the house. It was the owner himself who had suggested Adrián and given his number and address to Domi. Now Domi hopes that Adrián would be able to help him overcome the sudden insomnia that is trying to destroy his work. And the thoughts of Sascha – those Domi would have to control himself. He will work hard – so hard that he would have no time or energy left to dwell on thoughts of Sascha.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adrián begins his work at the house. Domi goes to practice, and reminisceses about old times.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Domi, dressed and ready to leave for practice, walks into his bedroom to see if Adrián needs anything. True to his word, Adrián arrived early in the morning, dressed in full-sleeved black shirt and grey trousers, carrying a large canvas bag on his shoulder. Domi was having breakfast with Moritz and Gustav; he had offered Adrián food, but the Spaniard had refused with a very polite ‘thank you very much’, saying that he had already had his breakfast. Gustav had greeted the man cordially enough, but as he had left for Domi’s bedroom he looked at Domi with questioning eyes. Domi had to explain the matter, complete with the sudden insomnia. He felt awkward; Gustav looked worried; Moritz looked a bit sceptical about the whole redecoration scheme, but neither of them said anything about it. Domi is grateful for that.</p><p>He has to stop at the door. Adrián is sitting on the floor, with his legs stretched in front of him, a pencil in his hand, engrossed in some papers on his knee. Domi cannot see his face, for his curly blond locks obscure it. There is something like a scrapbook with coloured pages open beside him on the floor, his tab is on the scrapbook, and a few papers are strewn here and there. He has taken off his shirt. Domi can see a tattoo of some sort of stylised snake on his back, in black, red and yellow, right on the spine. There is something on his right shoulder blade also, but Domi cannot figure out what it is.</p><p>He clears his throat. Adrián looks up and smiles. “Sorry for this – ah – disorder.” He indicates the state of the room with his pencil. “And please forgive this – undress – I just feel a bit hot, with the windows closed…Let me get dressed -”</p><p>“No, no, please don’t worry.” Domi waves it away. He does not want the opportunity to stare taken away either. “I only came to see if you need anything. I am going out now, but you can tell me, I will try to arrange.”</p><p>“Okay, there is something.” Putting down the papers, Adrián stands up and walks towards Domi. As he approaches, Domi can see more tattoos on his front. There is a bird in flight in blue, white and red below his left collarbone, and two black bands on his left arm, encircling the bicep. There is something green and yellow on the inside of the arm, below the elbow, but Domi cannot discern the shape properly. There is something in black on his hip also, the top of it visible at his right hipbone above the waistband of his trousers, but it is weird to stare, so Domi looks away.</p><p>“Do you have any photos, for example, of your home or you neighbourhood, or some other place that you like? Scenes of nature?” Adrián asks.</p><p>Domi feels a bit uncomfortable with Adrián close to him. Not that Adrián has done anything; only that he reminds Domi so much of Sascha. His height, his nose, his eyes, the colour and nature of his hair, all are reminiscent of Sascha. <i>Enough of Sascha!</i> Forcefully Domi pushes thoughts of Sascha out of his mind and looks at Adrián’s face. “Well, there are some on my phone, but I don’t know if -”</p><p>“Oh, let me transfer those to my tab. I will select the best, don’t worry.” Adrián smiles as he takes Domi’s phone. “It is said that with photos of nature in your bedroom is easier to sleep. These walls are bare, so I think -”</p><p>“I am sure you are right,” Domi says. Out of the corner of his eye he tries to see the tattoo below the elbow on Adrián’s left arm. It looks like some kind of leaves. He had heard once that everything that people ink on their skin has some meaning. Suddenly a desire rises in his mind to ask Adrián about the meanings of his tattoos. But really, what obsession with drawings on a stranger’s body! Domi feels embarrassed.</p><p>“Here is your phone.” Adrián hands it back to Domi. “Have a nice day.”</p><p>“You too.” Domi wishes him and leaves the room. He cannot understand why his face is burning.</p><p>**********</p><p>“Domi, look where you are hitting!” shouts Gustav, as Dennis jumps out of the way of the ball aiming for his head.</p><p>“I am so sorry! I did not see!” Domi apologises.</p><p>“Exactly!” barks Gustav. “You did not see. Why?”</p><p><i>Because I could not sleep for three successive nights. You already know that.</i> Domi does not say that. Instead he shouts, “I wanted to say that I did not know the ball was going to hit Dennis! It happens all the time in matches. People apologise. Like I did.”</p><p>Gustav looks like he is going to say something, but Dennis intervenes with an arm raised. “Drop it. It is alright. We better continue.”</p><p>They start hitting again. Domi does not hit Dennis’s body again. He concentrates with all the might of his will to make as few errors as possible, to keep his game clean. After some time Gustav tells them to stop for a break. Dennis sits down heavily on a bench and takes out his phone from his bag. Domi sits with a towel wrapped around himself, sipping water and watching his brother and Sebastian practise, while his mind dwells on Sascha. He was hitting with Dennis, but all the time his mind was engaged in thoughts of Sascha, of Domi’s practice sessions with him when they were both younger. He has been thinking of Sascha since morning. It is all Adrián’s fault. <i>Okay, not really, but why does he have to look so much like Sascha?</i> Except the tattoos, of course. Adrián has so many, probably all over his body, judging from whatever he has seen on his arms and torso and his hip – Enough! Domi scolds himself sternly. <i>What sort of thoughts are those!</i></p><p>But Domi’s mind does not wish to let him be in peace. It falls back on Sascha, on the day that they first met in a court for practice. It was a sunny day of spring, with no clouds and a pretty breeze, when flowers bloom and everyone is young. It was morning, and there Sascha was, standing on a side of the court, with a racket in his right hand, swinging his long arms and frowning. He was thin, with a neck that seemed too long and slender and a head too large with too much hair to be supported by that neck. If someone had told Domi that day that he was going to fall in love with that boy, Domi would have laughed in their face. One never knows what life holds for them!</p><p>Sascha’s father was there; he shook Domi’s hand and made small talk before introducing him to his son. Sascha did not speak much, nor did he stop frowning. <i>But he could play</i>. Domi liked his style – it was much different from his own, which he appreciated. He knew that in order to improve he needed to play with people with different types of playing styles. On the course of their practice Sascha warmed up to Domi and the frown left his face. By the time they had finished, they were friends. Afterwards they had lunch together, talked about silly stuff, laughed over jokes, altogether had a good time. Since then there was no looking back, until –</p><p><i>Until he messed up everything</i>. Domi shakes his head. Thinking of Sascha now would do him no good. Domi puts down his water bottle, and takes out his phone. He takes a few pictures – Moritz and Sebastian practising, views of the courts and the surroundings, of the sky and the small clouds, a selfie. He uploads the selfie and a photo of practice on Instagram, then thinks a bit and sends all the photos to Kiki. She responds within minutes, with a few smileys. They continue conversing until it is noon and Gustav signals for finishing up.</p><p>**********</p><p>Depositing his bags in the sitting room Domi goes to his bedroom; he is certain that is where Adrián would be. And there he is, sitting on the floor bending over something, with his back towards the door. Domi stands still and looks at the red, gold and black tattoo of the snake on his back – <i>it is really a snake, lying like a thunderbolt on the wheat-coloured skin</i>, but Adrián must have felt something because he sits up straighter and turns his head. Spotting Domi he smiles, showing teeth, and says “Buenas tardes”. Domi can feel his cheeks heating up. Adrián could not have possibly known that Domi was staring at his back, <i>thinking of his skin</i>, and yet – Domi curses himself inwardly, but greets Adrián with a smile. Then he raises his head and his eyes fall upon the framed photographs. Flowers on the bank of a lake, morning sun rising from behind green rolling hills, sky at sunset painted with a hundred hues, cloudless sky with trees shaking their heads, birds flying in a circle high in the sky, the full moon painting a rivulet silver – arranged cleverly on the wall so that wherever someone stands in that room, they would be able to see – <i>and feel</i> – nature. Domi looks down to find Adrián looking up at him, his gaze intense, his eyebrows raised slightly as if asking whether Domi has liked what he has seen.</p><p>“All these photos cannot be mine!” Domi says with a laugh. “I am not that good of a photographer.”</p><p>“Some are mine,” answers Adrián with a smile. “Some are yours – I just gave them a touch.”</p><p>The way he says the last words, with his soft voice and that accent, raises goosebumps on Domi’s arms. “Well, I like them very much. They are beautiful,” Domi says the truth.</p><p>“Do you like the – ah – nightstand?” asks Adrián, sweeping his arm towards it.</p><p>Domi turns towards the direction in which Adrián is pointing and cannot believe his eyes. The nightstand as far as he knows is a plain wooden table, but now it is no longer plain and nondescript, rather it looks as if its legs were made by twining creepers and the tabletop an unpolished block of wood. He glances down at Adrián again with questioning eyes.</p><p>“It is a tablecloth,” Adrián responds to his unasked query. “Well, not a cloth, but is made of recycled plastic, with those designs painted. The top and the legs are separate – I brought different sheets and cut them and arranged them like -”</p><p>“Don’t tell me your secrets!” Domi exclaims. “I would like to pretend that I am in a house in a forest, with a lake outside my house and birds flying over hills.”</p><p>“But will you really be able to live like that in a forest?” asks Adrián, looking into Domi’s eyes.</p><p>Domi feels a bit uncomfortable with Adrián almost sitting at his feet; <i>why does he not stand up?</i> But it would sound weird to tell him to do so. Instead Domi tries to imagine what it would be like to live in a forest.</p><p>“Domi, I say the sitting room looks – oh -”</p><p>Hearing the German words both Domi and Adrián turn their heads towards the door. Moritz is standing there. He smiles at Adrián. “Your work is pretty, I have to say.” He switches to English.</p><p>“Thank you,” Adrián says softly.</p><p>“Oh, you decorated the sitting room too? I didn’t notice!” exclaims Domi. “Let’s go and have a look.”</p><p>Adrián closes his scrapbook, folds up his papers, gathers his pens and pencils and puts them neatly inside the canvas bag. Then he stands up, takes his shirt from the back of the chair on which it was hanging, and puts it on but does not button up. “Okay, we go see what you like so much,” he tells Moritz.</p><p>In the sitting room there are ornamental plants, some green with whitish splashes on the leaves, some greenish red, some golden and brownish green. The pots seem to be of baked clay, with some moss on their sides. “Are these houseplants?” Domi asks. “Then you must give instructions on how to water them, otherwise -”</p><p>“Go and touch them,” Adrián says, stopping Domi’s words.</p><p>Domi touches the greenish red leaves and smiles. “These look so real, but – I can’t believe it! The pots too – they are not clay, and the moss is also -”</p><p>“All made of recycled plastic,” responds Adrián. “The pots those I painted myself. The plants were made by a lady and her daughter – I collect a lot of materials from them – they make flowers, lamps and other things for decoration also, from plastic, paper, glass, some stones…if you wish, I will bring you some decoration items of paper – if you tell me what you would like -”</p><p>“How much money did you spend on all of this?” Domi asks.</p><p>“None of my own,” replies Adrián. “I got everything from the advance that you paid me, and still some remains. Don’t worry, I will give you all the bills and take the money from you. And will not forget to charge my remaining fee.” He smiles.</p><p>Domi looks at the plants again, then realises that something else must be there in the room. He cannot see anything apart from the plants that was not there before, but it just feels a bit different.</p><p>“You rearranged the sofas and tables and chairs, right?” Moritz asks suddenly. <i>Of course he has got it</i>, Domi realises.</p><p>Adrián replies, “Yes, you are correct, Mr. -”</p><p>“Call me Moritz,” says Moritz. “I am his brother.”</p><p>“I understood who you are,” says Adrián with a smile and a shake of his head.</p><p>“You pulled these sofas and tables all by yourself!” Domi exclaims, interrupting the conversation.</p><p>“Yes,” responds Adrián, then adds with a smirk, “I am strong.”</p><p>“Will you decorate the balcony also, with flowers – plants – whatever?” Moritz asks Adrián, rescuing Domi from embarrassment.</p><p>“I was thinking about it. How did you read my mind?” Adrián winks at Moritz.</p><p>“Ah – I – um – no mind-reading, just thought -” Moritz shrugs. “And my bedroom also? Have you seen the room?”</p><p>“Nah, how can I enter someone’s bedroom without invitation?” Adrián tilts his head and looks sideways at Moritz. Domi almost gasps. <i>Is he flirting with his brother? Whatever, what is it to Domi, Moritz is old enough</i>…Nevertheless, he follows them to the bedroom and stands at the door while they walk about the room and converse. Of course, after Adrián has left Domi scolds himself. The guy is very professional, he just speaks softly with an accent that sounds attractive, and anyway he has not signed any agreement that he would not flirt with Domi’s brother. <i>Mind your own business, Dominic</i>, he tells himself sternly.</p><p>That night, lying with his head towards the headboard and looking at the wall Domi realises that Adrián has arranged the pictures in such a way that from one side to the other the arrangement depicts the change of morning to night, while on reverse it shows the night transforming into day. <i>You are an artist, Adrián</i>, utters Domi in the dark. That night he is finally able to sleep, and has nice dreams, though the next morning he cannot remember what they were about.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Domi, his borther, and the other players converse among themselves in German. Domi and Moritz speak with Adrián in English. This will be considered throughout the fic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Domi gets to know about Adrián's past.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter was difficult for me to write, hence the long delay. I am sorry for that.</p>
<p>Chapter Warning: Mention of abuse and violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“An excellent guy,” utters Moritz through a mouthful of egg. “The Andalucian,” he adds, as Domi raises his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Who is Andalucian?” Domi asks, taking a sip of his smoothie.</p>
<p>“Your interior designer,” replies Moritz.</p>
<p>“Not <i>my</i> interior designer.” Domi puts down his glass. “And how do you know he is Andalucian?”</p>
<p>“He told me.” Moritz says simply and starts chewing a berry.</p>
<p>“Why was he telling you the story of his life?” Domi frowns.</p>
<p>Moritz spits out the seed in his palm and drops it on his plate. “He did not tell me ‘the story of his life’. The things you say sometimes!” He rolls his eyes. “I just inquired where he came from. In case you have not noticed, his Spanish accent is different from what you hear around here. While we were speaking yesterday, he had a phone call. I did not understand a thing, but I heard his accent – he was standing close to me – so I asked. And he told me. Simple.” He shrugs. “Don’t know why I am explaining.” He puts two berries into his mouth.</p>
<p>Domi feels annoyed that he had not asked Adrián the same thing, although he had noted the accent. Actually, from the beginning he had felt so attracted by the sound of it that he never thought whether it was different from the Canarian ones or not. He channels that annoyance as he asks his brother, “Why were <i>you</i> so interested?”</p>
<p>Moritz frowns. “What is the matter with you? You sound confrontational, I don’t -”</p>
<p>“You don’t even know if he likes men!” Domi exclaims.</p>
<p>Moritz looks scandalised. “Who said anything about liking anyone? You have such a dirty mind, brother!”</p>
<p>Adrián arrives at that moment with the canvas bag and a medium-sized box, smiles at them and wishes them good morning, effectively putting an end to that conversation.</p>
<p>“Come have some fruit!” Moritz invites him.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Adrián puts down the box on the floor and his bag on top of it, and joins them at the table. He looks at Domi’s rather red face and seems to be on the verge of asking something, but Moritz pulls his hand. “Try the berries. They are nice.”</p>
<p>Adrián looks a bit surprised but does not pull away his hand. He only says, “If you say so.” Moritz lets go of his hand.</p>
<p>Adrián puts a berry in his mouth, putting two fingers into his mouth with it. Domi looks at the fingers, then looks away. Sascha used to eat fruits like that. No, not always, but only in presence of Domi. He used to drive Domi crazy that way. Adrián does so many things like Sascha…<i>is he Sascha’s lost brother?</i> Sascha’s face blooms in his mind – Sascha laughing, with the sun in his hair, his eyes sparkling, and dark violet-reddish juice of a berry trickling down the side of his chin. Domi was crazy to lick that juice off his mouth, to savour the taste of Sascha’s mouth in that thin trickle of juice, but they were in a players’ restaurant overlooking the courts in – where was it? Madrid? Rome? Paris. Definitely somewhere in the Mediterranean…</p>
<p>“So, what have you planned for my room?” Domi hears Moritz speaking, which brings his mind back to the present.</p>
<p>“You will see when you return from practice,” Adrián answers him with a toothy smile.</p>
<p>“You remember what I said?” asks Moritz.</p>
<p>“Perfectly,” Adrián replies with a movement of his hands. “It was only last evening, why would I forget?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean – okay.” Moritz shrugs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the car Domi has the desire to ask Moritz what he had told Adrián yesterday, but he just cannot. In his mind his tone sounds accusatory, though he cannot accuse anyone of anything. No one has done anything terrible; no one has hurt him in any way or spoken rudely to him. Adrián has been respectful – there is no reason to consider that he is not a respectable person altogether. He may seem a bit too friendly, but then he is a Spaniard, and all these years on the tour and travelling around the world has shown Domi that Latinos generally do not care too much about the idea of personal space. Basically, Domi has no cause to be annoyed at anyone, yet he is annoyed with the world, with his brother and mostly with himself.</p>
<p>After stretching and jogging, Gustav puts the two brothers to hit against one another, while Dennis and Sebastian practise in another court. Domi starts hitting his shots as if he is in an actual match, returning Moritz’s serves mercilessly. He feels energised, and is still annoyed, though he knows that it is unreasonable. Within half an hour the brothers are sweating despite the mild day and the light breeze, playing as if their lives depended on it. When Gustav calls for them to stop and rest a little, he looks happy. <i>He knows nothing, and ignorance is bliss</i>, thinks Domi.</p>
<p>Moritz sits down beside Domi and pats his knee. “You were great, brother!”</p>
<p>Domi looks at him and smiles, and his annoyance passes, just like that.</p>
<p>Later, Gustav engages all four of them in doubles. Domi partners with Sebastian against his brother and Dennis. Doubles are fun, like always; they laugh more than they play. After the practice is over, they play an improvised game of two-a-side football with the tennis balls, to the consternation of Gustav. When they finish for the day, Domi is happy with everything.</p>
<p>***************</p>
<p>Standing at the bottom of the steps, Domi and Moritz both look up to find Adrián in the balcony, standing on a high stool and hanging a small pot of some flowering creeper on the grill. Neither of the brothers shout to greet him, for that would have startled him, but he looks down at that precise moment, and spotting them, raises a hand. Domi waves at him, while Moritz runs up the stairs and enters the house. Domi follows more slowly.</p>
<p>Once inside, he does not see Moritz in the sitting room. <i>Probably gone to the balcony to talk to Adrián</i>, he guesses, and shrugs. He goes to his bedroom and proceeds to do the necessary things. He deposits his bags on the rack, takes out the used clothes and towels and puts them in a basket and places them in the corridor of the toilet; they would be washed the next day. Then he takes a bath, puts on fresh clothes and wears his favourite slippers, then goes to Moritz’s room. The door is open, Moritz cannot be seen inside, but the lights are on. He draws in a sharp breath on noticing the walls, or rather the designs on it. Unlike Domi’s room, there are no framed photos here, but geometric designs of plants and flowers and birds on the walls themselves. <i>How could Adrián paint on the walls? How could he forget Domi’s warning about not to alter anything fundamental, because this is someone else’s house?</i> This is what Moritz must have told him yesterday!</p>
<p>Fuming inside, Domi leaves the room and goes to the balcony. Adrián is sitting on the stool now, arranging a pot. Moritz is not here either. There is a small wooden chair near the door; on its back hangs a blue sleeveless jacket that Adrián came wearing in the morning. Adrián himself is in a red shirt with small white and blue flowers embroidered on the front, and black trousers. His feet are bare. On the floor lies a towel on which there is an assortment of things – empty pots, a pile of stones, a big jar of some white powder, scissors, knives, balls of strings of various colours, large needles, colourful chords, flowers and creepers of plastic or paper - Domi is not certain which, strips of cloth, and brushes. Adrián’s canvas bag is kept against the wall; the box sits open beside it.</p>
<p>“Good afternoon, Dominic. Please sit.” Adrián indicates the chair.</p>
<p>Domi does not sit. “How could you disregard my instructions because my brother told you to?” He hisses through clenched teeth.</p>
<p>Adrián stops his work and looks at Domi. He appears surprised. “Perdón? I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“My brother’s bedroom! Why did you paint on the walls, when I told you <i>not to alter anything fundamental?</i>” Domi’s voice rises and his anger spills into his words.</p>
<p>Adrián shakes his head exasperatedly. “Did you touch the designs?” He asks.</p>
<p>“No. Why should I?” Domi frowns.</p>
<p>“If you had touched them, you would have understood that those are not painted on the wall,” replies Adrián. “The designs are painted yes, but not on the wall. They are on a type of paper. You may call those designs wallpapers if you wish. You can remove those papers without peeling off any paint, don’t worry.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Domi feels stupid. He throws himself into the chair with a sigh. “I am so sorry for shouting at you for no reason.”</p>
<p>“You did not shout,” says Adrián with a smile. “And your concerns were legitimate.” He resumes his work.</p>
<p>Domi says nothing. He looks at Adrián’s hands, his fingers deftly assembling a flowering herb from the plastic or paper chords, leaves and flowers. He arranges everything in the pot, then stands on the stool and hangs the pot from the grill. The stool is so high and the chair so low that Domi is looking at Adrián’s feet. <i>Why is it always that one is sitting at the other’s feet?</i></p>
<p>“Are all these things of recycled plastic, too?” Domi asks as Adrián sits down again and picks up another pot.</p>
<p>“Yes,” replies Adrián. “I got them from the same ladies from whom I bought the plants in your sitting room. I am fond of houseplants and like decorating houses with them,” he continues after a pause, “but if nobody is going stay in a house permanently, then real plants would die from lack of water, no? Who is going to water them when you are not here, right?” Adrián looks up; his hands continue their work. “If you had moved in here, I would have decorated the house differently. But anyway,” Adrián lowers his head and stops talking.</p>
<p>Domi does not know what to say to that. He has no plan of moving anywhere; he loves his home. <i>Then what am I doing here, hiring Adrián for this work and all that? It was just a necessity. But now?</i> His internal monologue is a mess, Domi knows. Sascha, Adrián, moving, staying – so many thoughts, so little time! Domi raises his eyes to the ceiling, not looking at anything in particular. It is then that he becomes aware of the music. It must be Adrián, listening to music on his tab while working. Domi tries to listen closely. It is a woman’s voice; the song is in Spanish, and has a very melancholy tune.</p>
<p>“The song -” Domi does not even know what he is going to say.</p>
<p>“Is the story of my life,” says Adrián. “Well, about four years of my life. Sort of.”</p>
<p>“What is it about?” asks Domi.</p>
<p>“It basically talks about the end of a romantic relationship. Common theme of songs, yes,” Adrián gives a strained smile and continues to arrange the pot. “It goes like this – ‘Lo que construimos se acabó/ Fue sólo nuestro,/ Lo que construimos se acabó/ Se lo lleva el viento’. Whatever we had built has gone up in smoke, and although I had believed that it would not be difficult to leave it all behind, in reality that is not so. ‘You are a phantom walking with me’ – that is literally one line of the song. And my life, right there!” Adrián hangs that pot also, and sits down on the stool. “Okay, that was the last one. How does your balcony look?”</p>
<p>“I told you, whatever you do will be nice for me,” Domi replies, his mind preoccupied with whatever Adrián had just said.</p>
<p>“That is a very diplomatic answer, you know,” Adrián comments. “Very bad.”</p>
<p>“It looks pretty. I like flowers,” Domi says.</p>
<p>“Good. There is only one thing that you have to keep in account – you should take down the pots before a storm, otherwise they may break or be torn away. Anyway, it is complete,” Adrián finishes.</p>
<p>“What happened to you?” Domi cannot stop himself any longer.</p>
<p>“Perdón?” says Adrián.</p>
<p>“The song – why do you say it was the story of your life?”</p>
<p>“Because it describes well what happened to me once upon a time,” replies Adrián. “Not very long ago. Weird, that I think of it still, is difficult to forget about it…it was an abusive relationship.” He shrugs.</p>
<p>“What!” Domi exclaims.</p>
<p>“Yes. Difficult to believe, no?” Adrián looks away, outside the balcony. “Happened when I was doing my diploma in interior designing. I used to think that domestic violence was like cancer – like, I knew that it happened to a lot of people, but never imagined that it could happen to me. So while it happened, I did not see it like what it was. May be also because I did not want to consider myself a weak man. Was only later that I could analyse -” He stops and looks at Domi again.</p>
<p>“I am sorry – I never imagined -” The words trip over Domi’s tongue.</p>
<p>“Is difficult, I know,” Adrián nods. “Was the reason why I left my hometown – you know I am from Granada originally?”</p>
<p>“My brother told me that you were Andalucian, but did not say from where exactly -” replies Domi.</p>
<p>“I was stupid for my age – did not know people, how people could be. Well, I knew in general, that some people were unkind, used others for their own gain, never cared about others…But I had no idea that apparently nice and well-spoken people could be terrible too, that you need not necessarily have to hit someone or kill someone to be a violent man. I used to be a nerd, you know,” smiles Adrián. Domi can comprehend that it is not a happy smile. He says nothing; he lets Adrián continue his story. “You may find it difficult to believe that although I lived for about six years in Madrid, I did not really party much. I lived with my books and my designs – was studying architecture at that time. The companions of my class tried to take me to clubs, to bars, but alcohol always gave me terrible hangovers, and all that loud music gave me headaches. Everybody got bored with me and in the end left me to myself. So, the time when you are supposed to know people, to learn about people – that time I spent with books and assignments.”</p>
<p>“So, you led a – sort of - hermetic existence during your university days?” Domi asks.</p>
<p>“Not exactly hermitic, no,” Adrián laughs slightly. “I did meet people, but those were just like that – hook-ups or flings or those temporary things - like you meet someone and know that it would not go anywhere. Around me my friends got into relationships, got engaged, some got married after the course ended, but – some things are not for everyone I suppose.” Adrián shrugs.</p>
<p><i>Some things are not for everyone I suppose</i>. Is it the same about Sascha and himself? Is it not for Domi to be with Sascha, although they both wanted that? <i>Wanted</i> that? <i>Want</i> that?</p>
<p>Domi becomes aware that Adrián is speaking again. “So, while my friends got married and had children, I returned home and started my first job at a construction firm – at that time I was only an architect. But I had always liked home décor, so after a few years I thought of doing a course on interior decoration also. I thought that way I would be able to open my own business. There was some money needed – my salary at that time was not anything huge, so some visits to the bank were involved…and it was there that I met him.”</p>
<p>“Whom?” Domi asks.</p>
<p>“My ex. The partner in my first meaningful relationship.” Adrián pronounces the last three words slowly, with long pauses in between, as if letting the feeling sink in.</p>
<p>“Oh! I didn’t really think -” Domi has to stop. <i>What did he not really think? That Adrián liked men? But did he not wish it were so?</i> May be not wished consciously, but a part of his mind had dwelt on that.</p>
<p>Adrián asks exactly that. “What did you not think? That I may be – that I may like men? Is that a problem?”</p>
<p>“Of course not!” Domi exclaims, raising both arms. “What are you saying – my own first meaningful relationship was with a man. With a friend. Or someone who was a friend, I must say.” <i>Oh, did he just say that?</i></p>
<p>“<i>Was a friend?</i>” Adrián makes a face. “Is it really that bad?”</p>
<p>“I messed up,” sighs Domi. “I will tell you. But you first.”</p>
<p>“Okay. So…He spoke very nicely to me. Was very kind, helped me with forms and stuff – official paperwork always daunted me, so you can imagine how glad I was of that help. We soon became great friends. And then it was just a step from friendship to -” Adrián stops. “I don’t know to what. When I think of it now, I did not really know anything about him when he promised me eternal love and I believed it. I was a fool, I told you already.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think you were a fool,” counters Domi. “We all trust people we should not trust.” He sighs. “May be Sascha should not have trusted me either.”</p>
<p>“Sascha?” Adrián repeats.</p>
<p>“Well, Alexander, yes, but everybody calls him Sascha.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe you mistreated your Alexander,” says Adrián.</p>
<p>“Well, judge for yourself!” responds Domi. “We loved each other, but then I told him that I didn’t. Isn’t it mistreatment?”</p>
<p>“Why did you do that?” asks Adrián.</p>
<p>Domi throws up his hands. “If only I knew!”</p>
<p>“If only I knew! That is what I also think now!” remarks Adrián. “That time, I moved in with a man about whom I knew almost nothing. However, there is a saying that you never know the true nature of a person until you have lived a life with them. It is especially true about people who appear to be very nice -”</p>
<p>“But you are very nice!” interrupts Domi.</p>
<p>“May be I am very dangerous. You know nothing about me.” Adrián winks at Domi.</p>
<p>“I know where your office is, and where you live, but that was not my point.” Domi crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Please go back to your story, I will not interrupt.”</p>
<p>Adrián shrugs. “Okay. After I moved in with him – it was his apartment, on the other side of the city – I discovered that there was another side to his personality, that had not manifested before. He used to get upset if I contacted my friends from my university days, or if I spent time at some friend’s house for studies. We sometimes had study groups during the diploma course, generally in some friend’s house – sometimes in my parents’ house also. I had my job also – worked part time during that period, and on the off days and on weekends I would be at my office. He used to insist on me giving up the job, saying ‘It does not pay you much’. Of course I did not surrender to his will. It was not because I was thinking about financial independence, but because it was a good way to gain experience. I told him that, but it always remained a point of argument. Then sometimes he would suddenly turn up at my office, or at the institute, or at the friend’s house where there was a study group, declaring that he was missing me. ‘If I do not see you for long, I feel as if I have lost you’ – he said stuff like this.”</p>
<p>“How creepy!” Domi exclaims, sneering.</p>
<p>“But to me it appeared romantic,” grimaces Adrián. “De verdad,” he insists as Domi raises his eyebrows. “Told you I was a fool, no? But all his sudden appearances, or his endless calls while I would be at work or in class, calls that I did not answer – could not answer – all that led to huge arguments. And in those arguments he always managed to prove to me that I did not like his actions because I did not love him. I was made to feel guilty for things that were not my fault, or things that did not even exist. He always managed to throw the blame on me for everything.”</p>
<p>“He gaslit you,” comments Domi.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Adrián looks lost.</p>
<p>“That blame thing – what he did – it is called gaslighting, you know,” Domi says slowly. “It is very bad. Oh my goodness, I think I sometimes did it with Sascha!” Domi covers his face.</p>
<p>“Did you?” Adrián’s voice sounds strained.</p>
<p>“Not consistently, no, but at times, I think I did.” Domi removes his hands from his face. “It was bad – even if I did it once, it was bad. I should not have done that ever! He is volatile, he gets upset without much provocation, still throws things in court -”</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Adrián interrupts his lament, “but are you talking about Alexander Zverev?”</p>
<p>“You – I – yes – what!” All the words come out jumbled from Domi’s mouth. “I mean, I -” He stops, feeling stupid.</p>
<p>“I don’t follow tennis,” starts Adrián. “I sometimes watch matches, but that is all. However, when you contacted me, I remembered seeing your name in newspapers, so I looked up your name on the internet. I remember reading that Sascha Zverev is your very close friend.”</p>
<p>“We were – okay - lovers,” confesses Domi, sighing.</p>
<p>“<i>Were?</i>” repeats Adrián. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“I told him – alright, I will tell you from the beginning.” Domi lowers his head and stares at his hands on his lap. “We grew up as friends and brothers, unlike you and whatever his name was, and our relationship grew slowly…He used to sleep in my room, in my bed while we would be training together…liked to sleep in my arms, he said that. He was always volatile, had anger management issues, and many nights turned into counselling sessions. One such night he kissed me, and then things just developed on their own. Everything was out of our control.”</p>
<p>“Does not sound bad,” Adrián comments mildly.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t bad. We were teenagers and madly in love. But all things come to an end!” Domi sighs.</p>
<p>“How philosophical!” Adrián remarks. “But why?”</p>
<p>“I broke up with him,” replies Domi.</p>
<p>“But <i>why</i> did you break up?” Adrián asks.</p>
<p>“Because I was stupid.” Domi looks up. “I don’t know! Really, I don’t know what came over me. I was foolish. And what is this? I was asking you about your life, and now you are asking me! How did this happen?”</p>
<p>“Happens in conversations.” Adrián smiles. “Let us try to find out why you broke up, and then I will tell you about myself.”</p>
<p>“I believed it was not possible for professional sportspersons to – er – to like someone of the same sex and from the same sport. I do not mean not possible – I mean, everything is possible, but the fallout would be too huge to manage. For men, especially. You know, there is this thing, this -” Domi knows that he is rambling, but he has to try to express whatever he thought, although all that may sound stupid now. “You see, we are supposed to be strong, to be – ah – you yourself were saying all this stuff just now!”</p>
<p>“Yes, I did,” Adrián assents.</p>
<p>“The world of men’s sports is hypermasculine,” Domi resumes. “Um – well, there are stupid ideas about women’s sports too – I have heard people say that women who are professional athletes are like men and so it is rather normal that they would like women – but I am not the right person to talk about this, you would have to ask women about it. But for men, I think it is believed that if you are a man – and a sportsman at that – and you like men, then you must be weak. That is why there is – it is – such a huge taboo, you see…”</p>
<p>“Weak, you said?” Adrián smirks. “I heard a man once say – I don’t remember who it was, but someone well-known. He said something like – gay men are weak? They fuck men!” He bursts into laughter. “Cannot believe I said <i>that</i>!”</p>
<p>Domi starts laughing too. “He had a point, I have to admit. But you know, when people say weak, I think it mostly does not mean physically weak. It is more – like, mental, you know – not strength, but power. If a sportsman, who is supposed to be very ‘manly’, is gay, then it must imply that he does not have the power – the control – sort of…I am not making any sense.” Domi stops.</p>
<p>“You make perfect sense to me,” replies Adrián. “Our societies are crazy about power and control and competition…kindness and cooperation are not qualities of value but indicators of weakness. A terrible world in which we live!”</p>
<p>“And it is reflected in our personal relationships,” Domi starts from where Adrián has stopped. “It is the whole environment, a long list of things we can and cannot do, everybody telling you what you should and should not do. And so Sascha and I were not to be. I don’t say I am blameless – I am the one with the biggest faults, can’t overlook that, but the environment is responsible too. In a world where competition and control and power are all that matter – I don’t know where we are headed.”</p>
<p>“Well, in my case it <i>was</i> a question of power, truly. You know, sometimes it seems to me that all romantic relationships are really relationships of power, based on power dynamics between the parties involved.” Adrián stops, and Domi looks at him, horrified. “Terrible, I know,” continues Adrián. “I am not saying that it is true or that I know everything. It is just that it seems to me like that. All his gaslighting as you called it, was a question of power.”</p>
<p>“Gaslighting <i>is</i> about power,” Domi interrupts him. “It is about controlling the mind. If you are slowly gaslit, then one day you will start to believe that you deserve the abuse and torture that you suffer.”</p>
<p>“I believed that, yes” Adrián says slowly. “But I did not want to see the fact, did not want to think myself weak. Ah, that matter of weakness again! I don’t know – if I were a woman it would probably have been easier for me to understand it. Okay, not easier, but I might have understood it earlier. On the other hand, if I were a woman I might have had children from the relationship, and so it would have been more difficult to leave. It is a mess, really.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it is a mess,” agrees Domi. “Our education is a mess. I don’t talk about school, but social education.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Men are conditioned to believe that we are strong, we can fight, we can – do whatever. And that is stupid. Even dangerous. So even when I was being abused, I refused to see it, for that would have destroyed my own image – strength and power and understanding – in my own mind.” Adrián stops to draw breath. “I remember such weird stuff. Every time we had sex – I was always the receiving partner, it never occurred to me to try otherwise, but that does not matter – anyway, every time he would want me to say that I was being hurt, that he was hurting me. I only realised later that it was his way of exerting power, that he liked to believe that he was in control through hurting me. It was as if he never wanted me to enjoy it, because if I enjoyed it then that would signify that we were equals, and he could not tolerate that. Pathetic it was!”</p>
<p>“That is some special brand of sadism, it seems to me!” exclaims Domi.</p>
<p>“Is it that special? I wonder.” Adrián muses. “Anyway, there were other things too, that I only realised afterwards. In fact, towards the end it seemed as if we were only together because of the physical side of it, you know. Still I believed we could salvage it. Deep down, it was probably my fear of never finding anyone else who would love me, although our relationship was already no longer based on love but on power. But I could not see it clearly before almost losing my life.”</p>
<p>“What!” Domi stands up from his chair.</p>
<p>“Please, sit down. I am alive,” Adrián gives a strained smile. “It just happened that one night I was fed up with his – sadism as you called it, and told him that even though he wanted me to say that he hurt me, I was never hurt really. He went crazy hearing that. ‘You really wish to be hurt, right?’ he thundered, and slapped me. That was the first time that he had hit me. He had threatened me before, but had never harmed me physically – that was another reason why I could not comprehend that it was abuse. Anyway, I was surprised, and before I could react he had pounced on me and started to strangle me. Now, I am terribly claustrophobic, and he knew it. It felt as if he were killing me – I could do nothing – my body went rigid – that is how claustrophobic I am. And in this condition he entered me, without warning, without asking – I don’t remember the next few minutes – or perhaps it was a while – not certain how long it was, probably I had lost consciousness, or my brain has erased that memory. When I returned to myself it felt as if all the bones of my body were shattered, my throat felt raw, could not utter a sound. Still, I got up from bed – my only thought was to flee. I got dressed, collected my books and designs and put them in a bag – a lot of my things were at my office for I studied there during periods of recess. I fled just like that, without seeing him anywhere. I have no idea how I rode my bicycle to my parents’ house – I believe it was more willpower than anything else – to reach a place of safety, for when my mother opened the door I collapsed at her feet.” Adrián stops.</p>
<p>Domi sits silent and still, not knowing what to say, if there are even any words to say. When he asked Adrián ‘Tell me about your life’, he was not prepared for this. Adrián sits silent too, his face in semi-darkness now that dusk has started falling. After a while Domi manages, “I’m so sorry – sorry for making you remember all that. I hope you are in a better place now.”</p>
<p>“A lot better, yes,” responds Adrián in a broken voice. “But I was worst after the break-up. What had happened had destroyed my self-esteem, my agency, whatever. The next morning I was in fever and delirium, it continued for some days – it was a nervous breakdown. Even after my mind returned to normal I considered killing myself. Only my studies and the examinations prevented that. I should take my degree before death, that was the sort of reasoning that my brain had made up.”</p>
<p>“That vile man!” Domi exclaims. “<i>He</i> deserved to die, not you.”</p>
<p>“I would not wish death on anyone,” Adrián responds in a low voice.</p>
<p>“I would not either, but -” Domi tries to control the rage within him. “He deserved punishment at least. It was a crime. Did you go to the police?”</p>
<p>Adrián sighs. “No. I was at the edge of death at that time, and my family was worried about my life, they could not think about anything else. And later…it would not have served any purpose. It is difficult to prove domestic violence. And laws are not great, you know. In order to prove that I had been -” Adrián stops and looks down at his hands on his lap, then starts speaking again, addressing his hands more than Domi, “that I had been violated, I would have had to demonstrate that I had resisted. How do you prove things like that? How do you -” Adrián’s voice trails away.</p>
<p>Domi walks over to him and places his hand on Adrián’s. “I am so sorry that you had to go through all that.” Adrián does not raise his head. Then a tear falls on Domi’s hand, then another, then it is like rain. Domi stands like a figure of stone. It is disconcerting to watch a grown man cry like that. It is not that Domi is not used to adults crying; people cry on court for all sorts of reasons – for victory or for defeat, for debut match, farewell match, first match win, returning to court after a difficult time, after some serious injury or after childbirth, and a hundred others. But this is different. This is for a sort of pain that cannot be seen or heard, something that probably never ends. Had Adrián not told Domi, he would have never even guessed the terrible history hidden behind the blue eyes and golden hair and friendly face. <i>How many people are there in the world, right now, suffering in silence like him, suffering without understanding that they are being abused?</i></p>
<p>“Domi, I was looking for -” Moritz stops at the threshold. His eyes fall on Domi’s stricken face first, then he turns his face towards Adrián and his mouth falls open seeing him in tears. He turns to Domi again. “Has someone died?”</p>
<p>“Er – no, no!” Domi’s own voice sounds weird in his ear.</p>
<p>Moritz turns towards Adrián. “What happened?”</p>
<p>Adrián wipes a tear from the corner of his left eye and shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing.”</p>
<p>“But you are crying! It can’t be nothing!” Moritz takes a step towards Adrián.</p>
<p>“Por favor! No pasó nada!” exclaims Adrián. Then he takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and covers his face. “Please give me a moment.”</p>
<p>Moritz looks at Domi uncertainly. Domi shakes his head slightly and mouths “Drop it.” Moritz remains standing where he was, his worried eyes fixed on Adrián.</p>
<p>Within a few minutes Adrián composes himself. “Is good that you are here,” he tells Moritz, his voice neutral now. “I want to ask you about something. There is an idea…but I would like your advice. Come with me.” He puts an arm around Moritz’s shoulder and steers him out of the balcony into the house. Domi remains there with his mind in turmoil.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(1) Whatever I have written here about violence, none of it is my imagination, but is based on real experiences of real people including myself. It is important for every one of us to know about intimate partner violence as it is called. There are many ways in which that violence is manifested; it is not always physical assault, but in many cases or most of the times it is more psychological abuse, and that makes it even more difficult to comprehend.</p>
<p>(2) The song mentioned in this chapter is 'Lo que construimos' by Natalia Lafourcade, the song that gives this fic its title.</p>
<p>(3) 'Gay men are not tough? They fuck men!' is a bit from a stand-up sketch by Australian comedian Steve Hughes, from a Channel 4 comedy show.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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